Maybe Now Is That Time
by Goddess Arundhathi
Summary: About three years into the future, Oz takes a trip, to say goodbye to Willow
1. Default Chapter

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TITLE: Maybe Now Is That Time  
AUTHOR: _Goddess Arundhathi_  
_RATING: R (eventually)  
PAIRING: Willow/Oz  
FEEDBACK: Is chocolate for the soul. Yes please.  
ARCHIVE: If you want, but please let me know.  
DSICLAIMER: They don' belong to me. I just use and abuse them, and then I give them back, a little the worse for wear.  
SPOILERS: Anything up to the end of Season 6 is fair game. You have been warned  
TIMELINE: About three years after the end of S6  
SUMMARY: Oz takes a trip to Istanbul to say goodbye to Willow  
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**Maybe Now Is That Time**

Daniel Osborne turned his van, freshly painted a vivid purple, into a side street, which, as luck would have it, was clearly marked with No Parking notices. Well, he assumed that was what they were, based on the vaguely familiar shape of the symbol. The letters and words meant nothing to him, which was nothing new. He had been pretty much reduced to pointing and speaking loud English to make his point ever since he crossed the French border and left behind the part of Europe where his almost forgotten language skills allowed him to communicate, however badly. In France, he could buy a beer, book a hotel room and, bizarrely, hold extended conversations about gardens. Here, he had to smile his thanks, and point at the things he wanted from the harassed market traders. He'd considered buying a phrase book, but decided that after five years of managing to travel without, there was no point in trying to learn something new now.

Ignoring the signs he stopped the van's engine, deciding that, if he were unlucky enough to get caught, he would plead ignorance of the language, failure to comprehend the signs. Once people realised he was American, that seemed to work every time. Which probably said a great deal about the European attitude to the people of the US of A.

Oz shrugged, even though there was no one there to take note of it. He didn't much care what the people of Ljubljana. Slovenia, thought of Americans in general, and if their poor opinion worked to his advantage, well, that could only be of the good. He didn't have time to worry about parking his van in the appropriate place. There were only two days until the full moon, and as he wanted to spend them all driving to Istanbul, and not chained up in the back of said van, he needed to find the magic shop a friend in Paris had assured him would provide the herbs he needed to help control the transformation to wolf.

He climbed out of the van, locking it carefully behind him. The area didn't look too bad, but the van was home as well as transport at the moment, and he didn't want to spend a night on the streets of a strange city, so caution. Even with his battered old van. Thinking of that reminded him of Willow, and the last time they had sat together on its front seat, letting each other go.

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"This thing looks pretty good, considering you drove it overseas." Willow doing her usual thing, making light conversation to avoid any sort of discomfort, not wanting him to feel awkward. Knowing it wasn't working when Oz was unable to look at her, make any sort of eye contact.

"Well, it broke down outside of Mexico, and I traded my bass to have it fixed and garaged." That bass, along with his van, his most treasured possessions. His music had always been the thing that kept him sane (ish), before Willow. When she came along, those things never mattered quite so much. The others in the band had known that, and on occasions it had even caused friction, which he had been at pains not to let Willow see, not wanting her to feel like she was their Yoko. 

Guilt at the knowledge of how much he had hurt her, how much things had changed since then pricked at him, and he felt he had to make some kind of apology. "I shouldn't have come back now.... I just thought I'd changed."

"You have changed." Smiling, proud of how much Oz had accomplished. That was what he loved about her. The way she could always see the good in someone. Managing to ignore the fact that he could quite possibly have killed her girlfriend, and that her friends had been dragged into a dangerous rescue expedition for him afterwards. "You stopped the wolf from coming out. I saw it." So happy for him, despite all that had happened, everything he had done to her.

"But I couldn't look at you." Unable to meet her eyes even now, as they deal with this, knowing that he is hurting her, but in too much pain himself to be able to do anything about it. 

"I mean, it turns out... the one thing that brings it out in me is you... which falls under the heading of ironic in my book." When he went away, all he wanted was a cure, a way to be with Willow without the wolf getting in the way. Thinking he had found that, then returning to discover that things had changed, that he couldn't handle that as well as he thought. Not wanting to deal with the pain of that realisation, so falling back on flippancy, the dry humour everyone expected from him.

"It was my fault. I upset you." Heart breaking, again, he finally looked up, meeting those beautiful eyes that always showed every bit of emotion she felt. Even now, Willow was forgiving him, taking away the blame for his actions. But he couldn't let her do that. It wasn't fair.

"Well, so we're safe then." Hiding behind sarcasm, not wanting Willow to see how much this hurt, how bad he felt that he couldn't control it around her, knowing she would blame herself, and not wanting that, never wanting her to hurt the way he had hurt her before. "Cause you'll never do that again." Willow tries to smile at that, both of them knowing what he is saying. 

"But... you're happy?" Knowing the answer already, seeing that she has moved on, managed to pick up the pieces of a mess he left behind and build something that gives her joy. Not wanting to hear her say yes, say that Tara has given her what he, in the end, couldn't, but knowing it is true, and deep down, beyond the immediate pain, glad of it.

"I am. I can't explain it-" Wanting to anyway, looking like she needs to justify herself to him, when all he wants, all he has ever wanted is this, for her to be happy with her life. Of course, in the past that had been a life with him in it, but even knowing that can't be, Oz needs to know she will make the most of this, enjoy the happiness.

"It may be safer for both of us if you don't." Glad that she is happy, but not ready to hear about it, not yet. Even though she clearly wants, needs to explain, to make things okay between them

"I missed you, Oz. I wrote you so many letters... but I didn't have any place to send them, you know?" He knows. At the time, it was deliberate, not telling her where he was, avoiding any sort of contact. Knowing that one word from her and he'd come rushing back from Mexico, Tibet, even Mars, missing her so much it ached, but knowing, in the sensible, adult part of himself, that he couldn't go back, not until he'd dealt with the thing that had prised them apart in the first place.

"I couldn't live like that." And he shouldn't have expected her to, or even wanted it. The arrogance of hoping, believing, that he could go back and just slot back into her life, like none of it had ever happened, like he hadn't been away for months.

"It was stupid to think that you'd just be... Waiting." But, deep inside, he had. Had thought that nothing could change the way they felt. Knowing now that it hadn't changed, but that other things had got in the way, new things, new lives. For both of them. 

"I was waiting. I feel like some part of me will always be waiting for you. Like if I'm old and blue-haired, and I turn the corner in Istanbul and there you are, I won't be surprised. Because... you're with me, you know?" Knowing what she means, because he feels it too. But at the same time, a sinking feeling tells him that this is it, at least for this lifetime. Going back is always going to be more difficult than moving forward.

"I know. But now is not that time, I guess." Wondering when, if at all, that time will come. Will there ever be a time when they can see each other without the pain that is still so apparent here.

"No." Shaking her head, allowing their eyes to meet. Saying a final, silent goodbye.

"What are you gonna do?" Oz can tell that she knows the answer even as she asks the question.

"I think I better take off." He can't stand to be here, watch her be happy without him, even though its what he wants more than anything, for her to be happy. Can't risk hurting her if it ever got too much for him.

"When?" Again, already knowing the answer, but obviously not wanting to hear it.

"Pretty much now." Oz needing to do this, to make it fast so that he doesn't change his mind. Willow nods, accepting his decision even as the tears well up in her eyes again. Oz hugs her, and they cling to each other, knowing that this is it. Glad he came back to make his peace, even though that wasn't his original intention. Knowing that, for now, if not forever, this is it, this is goodbye.

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Oz shook himself out of the memory-induced stupor in time to narrowly avoid being blindsided by a scooter travelling at a speed far above anything that should be possible from something with such a small engine. Ignoring what he assumed was violent verbal abuse from its very disgruntled driver, he headed across the street. For the first time since getting out of the van, he took a look at his surroundings.

The busy street was packed with traffic, people and, for some reason, a large number of geese wandering freely among the cars. Lining the pavements were scores of market stalls laden with produce, brightly coloured cloths and, occasionally cages filled with livestock. He briefly pondered the possible explanations for the free-roaming geese before deciding he didn't know, and, in a way that the Sunnydale gang would have acknowledged as typically Oz, accepting that it didn't matter. There were geese. Sure, why not? It didn't matter why there were geese. There were and that was that.

Checking the directions he had scribbled on a beer mat in a Paris bar one last time, Oz turned left, into a dark alley. With a caution ingrained by several years of hanging with the slayer, his right hand slipped automatically to the back pocket of his jeans, where he knew there would be a stake. With alleys this dark, even daylight was no guarantee against vampires. No sense in taking unnecessary risks. Rounding a large pile of empty boxes and broken wooden crates, he spotted the sign he was looking for, 'Stay a Spell.' Stopped for a second to acknowledge the strangeness of this, the hidden English magic shop in the centre of Zagreb, and the unbelievably silly name, before pushing open the heavy wooden door and entering a dark room.

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Some twenty minutes later, he finally left the shop and headed back out of the alley into the bright sunlit street. The smell of incense and something less definable had left him wanting to sneeze all the time the distracted shopkeeper had been searching his chaotically stacked shelves for the obscure herbs Oz had requested. Relieved to have escaped the oppressive room, Oz strolled back to his van, pausing at a couple of the market stalls to buy bread, fruit and other basics. He wanted to stay on the road for the next couple of days, didn't want to waste time searching for towns where he could pick up a meal.

Arriving back at the van, Oz was pleased to note the lack of a ticket. He wouldn't have hung around to pay it anyway, but at least this way he didn't have to feel bad. He dumped his packages on the passenger seat before starting the van and heading back out on to the busy main road to start the final stage of his journey.

As he drove the familiar route, Oz thought of the previous times he had made this trip. Ever since taking his leave from Willow the last time, he had been on the road. Mostly in Europe and Asia, sometimes back in the States. All the time he had been travelling, he had headed for Istanbul at least twice a year. At this point, he wasn't even sure why. He never expected to see Willow there, knew that the place had been an exotic elsewhere plucked out of her head in the middle of a difficult conversation. Probably chosen because of the unlikeliness of Willow's ever actually being in Istanbul.

He supposed it was a sentimental thing. When he was there, he thought of Willow, remembered her as the time when he had been happiest. Knowing that if he were to ever see her now, she wouldn't be the same innocent, pure-hearted girl he had seen her as at first. He had travelled a lot, mostly associating with other people, and non-humans, who knew about the darker side of life. He'd managed throughout the years to pick up rumours about the Hellmouth, a focus of interests for lot of the people and demons he'd met.

About three years back, someone had told him about the young and yet hugely powerful witch in Sunnydale who had nearly brought about the end of the world after losing her lover, another witch. Something about this story, he wasn't sure what, had told him that this was Willow. At the time he had even contemplated going back, but in the end had resisted, knowing that him being there could only make things harder for Willow. He knew it would have changed her though. Nobody could come through something like that unscathed.

The trip to Turkey had now become like a pilgrimage somehow, a time to remember the past. Mostly he tried not to think about it. Even now, it hurt too much. And he had moved on. He enjoyed travelling, had made new friends, had met and parted with a number of lovers. But in the end, it all came back to this, a few days twice a year where he wandered round a city where he and Willow had never been together and though of her, of going back. He never did it though. After the trip was done, he headed on. Usually made plans to meet up with friends so that he would be forced to leave. Couldn't risk just staying there, waiting for a meeting that was never meant to happen. This time though, he had no plans, no idea what came after Istanbul. He was sure though that this would be the last time, that he needed to let go, move on, maybe even settle down and start building a normal as possible life for himself. But first, he had to do the trip one last time, let go of his demons.

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TBC


	2. Chapter 2

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Maybe Now Is That Time

Chapter Two

Oz pulled the van into the parking space at the side of the dusty road. He had been driving for almost ten hours now, snacking as he drove rather than stopping for a meal, and listening to the distorted sound of the van's very old stereo. He needed to sleep, stretch his legs and take a leak, although possibly not in that order.

Ablutions dealt with and legs thoroughly stretched, he climbed into the back of the van and lay down on the bed mat he kept there. Checking the back door was securely locked, he lay down to sleep. He could have booked into a motel or guesthouse somewhere, but this seemed easier, and of course, cheaper. Turning onto his side, Oz closed his eyes and sank into a sleep filled with dreams of red hair and sweet smiles.

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When he woke, the traffic outside was already picking up. Checking his watch, he realised he'd slept much later than planned. It was along time since he'd had such pleasant dreams, and he hadn't been in much of a rush to wake up. He shrugged to himself, acknowledging that it didn't much matter when he reached his destination. Nothing much was waiting for him there except a few days of wandering aimlessly through familiar streets and browsing the same shops and stalls that were there every time he took this trip.

Climbing out of the back of the van, Oz shielded his eyes from the already blazing sun. He really ought to learn that this wasn't a good time of year to do this trip. He smiled ruefully. He always came in the heat of summer, mainly because it reminded him of the happiest times he and Willow had spent together, after Graduation, and before college and the whole Veruca mess got started. He wasn't likely to change the habit now just because of a little bit of global warming.

Running his hands through his currently light-brown hair, he jumped in the driver's seat and started the van's engine. He could find a bar or café in the next town which would provide an essential caffeine jolt as well as somewhere to wash the worst of the post sleep grit from his face. Reaching for the stereo he slipped a recording of the Dingoes, made at a frat party shortly after they started at UC Sunnydale. He remembered Buffy and Willow dancing at the party, which was in the pre-Parker, happy Buffy phase of college. Pulling out into the fast-moving traffic, he set off in the direction of Istanbul.

Three hours later, he was totally bored. The journey seemed never-ending, and he had seen most of the scenery before. Usually he enjoyed driving alone, listening to music and watching the world go by. Today, though, it was making him uncomfortable. Which was why, when he saw the girl at the side of the road with a dusty backpack and a battered cardboard sign, he pulled over.

Even as he stopped, Oz was thinking that this was probably not the best idea ever. But, it was daylight, so not a vamp. And she was, surprisingly, much smaller than him, so, unless a new slayer had been called, probably not dangerously strong. He leaned over and opened the passenger door of the van.

"Hey" Smiling at her, realising too late that she might not even speak English.

"Hi." American accent. Probably Mid-West, although he'd been away for a while and couldn't swear to it. At any rate, they'd be able to communicate.

"Where you headed?" Now he'd had time to think about it, hoping she would be aiming in a different direction. Sure he'd been bored, but the thought of having to make conversation didn't really appeal. He was more of a listen and learn guy. Not big on the small talk.

"Istanbul. You?" She looked up at him hopefully, pushing her hair away from her face, leaving slightly dusty grey smudges on one cheek.

"Same. Jump in." Even if he wasn't sure about sharing his van for the rest of the journey, the look of relief on her face spoke volumes, and there was no way now that he could not give her a lift. Maybe she'd sleep, or be one of those who liked to look out of the window. 

"I'm Cathy." Sliding into the seat, she pulled on her seatbelt and turned to smile at him.

"Oz" He smiled back, aware that it probably looked a little forced. Already, he was regretting allowing his boredom to get the better of him. He eased back out onto the road, turning the volume on the stereo up at the same time, hoping that would get his message across.

"So, why Istanbul, Oz? You ever been there before?" Evidently she was thicker skinned than that. She was looking at him with interest, obviously keen to fill up the travel time with tedious getting-to-know-you chat, the type

"A few times, yeah. You." Keep the sentences short, hope she'll lose interest in monosyllabic-guy. Even with people he liked, he tended to keep it short and sweet, so with total strangers, conversation was at even more of a minimum.

"First time. I've been travelling for two months. Heading back home to start grad-school in a couple of weeks. Some guys I met in Bulgaria told me it was a pretty cool place, so I though, seeing as I had a bit of time to kill, may as well check it out. I guess it is?"

"Huh?" Oz was aware that he had been asked a question, but hadn't zoned in on the girl's chatter enough to know what it was.

"Istanbul. A cool place? I mean, you're going back, and you said you'd been a few times, so I guess you must think it's worth it?" She turned slightly in her seat, interest showing on her pretty, if slightly grubby face, her eyes wide with curiosity.

Oz sighed inwardly. She was obviously a relative newcomer to the backpack trail, still starry-eyed and wanting to go everywhere, see everything. He knew the type. Travelling before college, or before their first full time 'real' job. She would go home, tell everyone about her fantastic trip, and life-enhancing experiences, then settle down as a grown-up; glad she never had to do it again. They were easy to distinguish from the hardened nomads, who had seen it all, done it all, and weren't ever going to go home. 

Oz thought he probably fell somewhere in between. He didn't plan on doing this forever, but he was too cynical to start with to have ever had the bright-eyed enthusiasm for new experiences that the girl beside him showed. He was reminded of Willow and that made him a little more honest and open than he would usually be.

"It's okay" he began, "but I don't really go back for the place. More for what it means to me." Even as he spoke, he was thinking that this wasn't a good idea. Talking about Willow was always difficult, and as someone who didn't express a great deal of emotion in front of his closest friends, displaying his feelings to a total stranger was bound to be too much for the naturally taciturn man. Oh well, he'd started now, and she looked like she wanted to hear this.

"So, what's special about the place then? Let me guess. You met a girl there, had a whirlwind night of love and passion, and then never saw her again." Convinced she'd hit the nail on the head, she smiled at him, clearly looking forward to a story straight out of Brief Encounter.

That smile, so sweet and innocent took him right back to Willow, and, deciding that a little conversation once in a blue moon wouldn't hurt, he smiled back at her

"Not exactly. But you're right. It started with a girl."

TBC


End file.
